


Why You Should Never Let Your Hyperactive Frontman Give A Lecture

by Denstort



Category: Muse
Genre: Gen, Humour- Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denstort/pseuds/Denstort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PR....they never learn or so the rest of MUSE and Tom think................</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why You Should Never Let Your Hyperactive Frontman Give A Lecture

“They did what!?” Dom exclaimed. He wasn’t expecting this kind of news at 9am on a Monday morning.

“Are they completely nuts, or have they forgotten the last time they let him loose on the public.”

“I told them,” Tom replied. “But they said that was years ago.”

“And they think he’s gotten better with age.”

They both looked over when Chris came in and said in a slightly panicked tone.

“Have you heard?”

“Yes,” they said together.

“Good Lord, have they told Matt yet?” Tom said.

The brunet whirlwind that arrived ten minutes later gave them their answer.

“Oh lord…they have.”

“Dom…Dom, guess what!?” Matt said. “I’m going to give a lecture at Cambwidge University.”

This was said at his usual rate of knots, but the trio had long ago learnt to speak Matt in full Energizer Bunny mode.

“They want me to talk about the influence of rock music in the twentieth and twenty-first century.”

“Yeah...great,” Dom said. He sighed when Matt didn’t even notice the tone it was said in. In fact, he didn’t even slow down.

“Yeah, I already know what I’m going to say.”

Chris stepped in front of him, to stop him jumping around.

“Matt, are you going to write it down?”

“Nah, I’m going to wing it. Show em’ what rock means, going against the man. Not letting them censor my words.”

He tapped his temple with one finger.

“Can’t censor your thoughts……yet.”

With that he was out of the door and into the recording booth, with his sound engineer.

Tom put his head in his hands and groaned.

“This is going to be a train-wreck.”

*******************

Later Dom walked past the recording booth. He could see Matt, but he wasn’t singing…was he practicing his lecture. He could see the sound engineer, who was shaking his head, a mortified look on his face.

Oh….this was so not good.

What made it worse was the cackle that floated out of the speaker.

“I can’t let this happen,” he said to himself.

He called the label’s PR department.

“I’m sorry, Dominic, but the university specifically asked for Matthew, because he was born in Cambridge.”

“But you can’t, he’s not even writing it down.”

“Dominic, you know we can’t dictate anything to Matthew.”

“Can’t they let me do it?” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry, but all the arrangements have been made.”

“Fine,” he said. “I hope you as good at putting out fires as you are at starting them.”

He shut his phone off and resigned himself to it; he could only hope it wasn’t too much of a train-wreck.

*********************

Over the next week the three of them tried to prise out of Matt what he was going to say, but unusually for Matt, he was tight-lipped. He’d obviously been going through the archives that Tom had been collating, but had used a password protected lap-top, so they had no idea what he was going to use.

They arrived at the university, but they couldn’t see Matt anywhere, and then they were ushered to their seats.

“I hope he wears something subtle,” Tom said as he fiddled with his camera.

The hall was full, not just students but the Dean and the whole Board were there, as well assorted press.

The lights dimmed and the thumping beat of Rage Against the Machine’s ‘Killing in the Name Of’ filled the room. Dom and Chris sunk lower in their chairs.

A single spotlight came on, and every head turned…and dear lord, he was wearing that red coat with feathers and the furs, and were those the flashing blue shades Dom thought he’d thrown away.

Matt strode down the aisle and as he passed Dom, he pulled down the shades and winked.

Dom put his head in his hands and he heard Chris groan.

It was safe to say that the audience were stunned into silence as Matt climbed onto the stage and stood there, in all his be-coated glory…just looking at the audience.

There was a few moments silence and then Matt said, not pronouncing his ‘R’s’ correctly.

“Wock and woll…what is it weally about?”

He started to unbutton the coat and Dom dreaded what he was wearing underneath. He was prepared to look away, but then he saw that he wearing those black jeans with a white tee and the leather jacket he’d taken to wearing.

For the next hour, Chris, Tom and himself sat in awe as Matt used all of that quick- firing mind to explain what he considered to be the influence of rock music on society. He even took questions from the students and answered them concisely, without any wild or outlandish talk.

“And finally, what does it mean to me,” he said.

A picture appeared, the one taken of the band standing by the railings on Teignmouth sea-front.

“What it means to me is that I found a purpose, when life could have so easily gone very dark.”

The picture change to one that was taken only a few weeks ago of them in a group hug after a gig.

“And I found the most important thing, I found true friendship…I found a family.”

The spotlight turned on Dom, Chris and Tom, who by now were not blushing in shame or embarrassment…but from the emotions those last words had conjured.

“Thank you for listening,” Matt said and the spotlight went out and when the lights came on, he was gone.

Dom and Chris slipped away whilst filmed the standing ovation Matt richly deserved.

They found Matt, sitting on the steps of the lecture hall.

They sat on each side of him.

“Matt…that was…just…..wow,” Chris said, and Dom just hugged him.

“I could do with a pint,” Matt said. “I know just the place.” 

“Yeah, Tom won’t be long,” Dom said.

Five minutes later, the four friends were wandering along the path beside the river Cam…not as rock stars and their archivist…but as friends….family.


End file.
